


enough

by fabrega



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain Marvel (2019) Spoilers, F/F, Missing Scene, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 03:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: Carol's trip to C-53 has felt like one revelation after another.





	enough

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a million to [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/) for the beta. ♥

Later, Maria shows her the _rest_ of her things.

"Monica didn't bring this box down for you because Monica doesn't know about this box," Maria says, answering the question Carol hasn't asked yet, her back to Carol as she rifles through her closet. Carol is sitting on Maria's bed, one leg tucked up underneath her, watching the stretch of Maria's arms and the way she lifts up on her toes to reach the back of the top shelf.

"Why doesn't Monica know about this box?"

Maria turns to give Carol an indecipherable look, one that makes Carol shift in her seat. "Someday, maybe," Maria says, with a laugh that isn't quite a laugh.

"When she was ready?"

"When _I_ was--and even then, not all of it." Maria turns back to the closet. She stretches again, and Carol watches for another moment or two before she sighs and gets up from the bed.

"You think I need your help, short stuff?" Maria says. This laugh is real, but the wind goes out of it, another even more indecipherable look on her face, when Carol gets down on one knee and forms a step with her hands, offering her a boost.

The two of them manage to extract the box from the closet amidst much laughter and grumbling about _who even builds shelves this high_. Maria sets it on the bed without opening it and steps back, leaning against the bedroom wall. Carol gives her a questioning look, but Maria doesn't say anything, just gestures with her chin towards the box.

Carol sits again, tucking the other leg up under herself this time as she gets comfortable, and opens up the box.

The stuff of hers that Carol had seen before, Monica had  laid out all nicely for her on the table. This box, Carol dumps unceremoniously onto the bed and sifts through it herself. 

The first thing she picks out is a stack of photographs. The first few Carol flips through are of the two of them, together--their arms around each other, sitting close and looking at each other and laughing--and Carol wonders for a moment why these photos weren't in with the ones Monica had kept. She casts a glance sideways at Maria, but Maria's expression doesn't change. Then Carol flips over to the next photo, and, _oh_. They're sitting together, Carol halfway on Maria's lap, a grin on her face and her eyes on Maria as she flips the camera the bird.

Carol is struck with a sudden, visceral memory of that moment: there's beer, and a bonfire, and they're both laughing, rough-housing in an attempt to each be the one on the other's lap. She doesn't remember who took the picture or why they'd even wanted to, just that they'd tried to drag her attention away from Maria, that they'd told her to smile, and that this picture had been the result. Moments later, she remembers, she'd gained the upper hand and planted herself firmly on Maria's lap.

 _You win_ , Maria had said, grinning, and Carol had thrown her arms around Maria's neck and leaned in close and murmured, _yeah I always win, with you_.

She looks up at Maria. "We were...?"

She doesn't finish the question, but Maria nods. "We were."

Her trip to C-53 has felt like one revelation after another, but this? This knocks her sideways. 

She shuffles through the rest of the pile of photos: a few of them kissing, several of the two of them in what look like nice dresses, one of what Carol knows is her own bare torso. She touches that scar on her side through her shirt, wondering.

She sets the photos aside and looks at the rest of the things on the bed. There's an old, soft t-shirt, one that Carol doesn't remember owning but feels like hers, in her hands. There's a small collection of trinkets, each one of them conjuring a flash of memory: a shot glass from a kitschy store at a rest stop on one of their road trips; a matching set of the coins that had been specially made for the PEGASUS pilots, each one with both their names on it; a slightly-dented little metal figurine of a cat, which she remembers Maria throwing at some jerk pilot's head in a bar while Carol made a lewd gesture with her hands and her tongue; a small ceramic bowl that hadn't quite had all the salsa cleaned out of it when Carol had smuggled it out of the restaurant, on a dare, in her bra. There's a copy of the report Maria had made about Carol's last flight, redacted just as heavily as the one at PEGASUS had been. And, finally, there's a necklace, a sturdy chain with two small gold rings on it.

Carol holds it up, lets the rings dangle, glinting in the light from the lamp on the bedside table. "These were ours," she says. It's not a question; she _knows_.

Maria nods. "We couldn't wear them at work, so yours was with your stuff, after...afterwards. Eventually I put mine with it and tried to, y'know--" She pauses, purses her lips and looks away, taking a deep breath through her nose before continuing, "--move on."

Carol's stomach swoops at that, surprising her. "Did you? Move on, I mean?"

Maria snorts. "Carol, I still have multiple boxes of your things my house, including a secret one in my closet. Does it look like I've moved on?"

"Dunno, that box _was_ pretty far back on that shelf..."

Maria cracks a disbelieving smile and comes back over to sit next to Carol on the bed. There's space between them, and Carol reaches out to touch Maria's hand, lacing their fingers together.

Maria idly traces up and down the back of the little cat figurine with her free hand, looking between Carol and Carol's things with a thoughtful smile. "You know, I almost didn't show you this stuff."

"What? Why?"

"You _forgot_ me. If you didn't remember, I didn't want you to feel, y'know, obligated to do anything or be anything just because I had this box of stuff and a bunch of old feelings about you."

Carol grabs Maria's other hand, holds them both in her own so she can look Maria squarely and sincerely in the eye. "Maria, have you _ever_ known Carol Danvers to do anything just because she felt obligated to?"

Maria laughs as she pulls her hands away, her mouth twisting sideways in a way that Carol is discovering that she loves. "You _do_ remember."

"I remember some." Carol lifts her hand to touch Maria's face.

Maria tilts her head into Carol's touch. "Enough?"

"Not _enough_ , but...enough." Her eyes search Maria's face as she leans forward into her space, looking for an indication that what she's doing is okay--and then Maria sighs, fists a hand in her shirt, and pulls her in to kiss her.

When she finally pulls away, Carol sighs, a sound that's part happiness and part frustration. "How the hell could I ever forget you?"

"I don't know, but you'd better not let it happen again," Maria says, grinning, and she kisses Carol again.

*

Later, Carol goes downstairs to grab a few of her things before heading back up to bed. She's a little rumpled, a little smug, wearing a too-long pair of Maria's pajama pants. Fury is sitting at the dining room table; she's not sure if he's waiting for her or just sitting quietly by himself for fun.

Fury looks her up and down and raises an eyebrow. "Seems like you figured some things out."

Carol stops for a moment, thinks about it, smiles. "Yeah," she says, "I think I have."


End file.
